After a full week, I finally left Palermo… and I really did leave a piece of my heart there. I was absolutely mesmerized by that city… and if I ever return to Sicily… it will be the first place on my list to visit. Cefalù On one of the days I was there, I took the train to Cefalù… a seaside town only an hour away. It was charming… and I enjoyed it, but I felt myself beginning to wear thin. Cefalù was lovely… smaller... and much quieter than Palermo. It was a Sunday, so more

I think I've eaten so many spinach arancini... at this point I could probably become a critic. The bad ones? Sure, I still eat them... but then I get irritated with myself for having ruined a perfectly good meal opportunity on something a bit ick. The Arancini of Palermo But the good ones? Man . l have to physically tear myself away... to prevent me just staying there and eating one right after another... I've taken this strange pride in tracking them down too... pinpointing

I have something I really need to admit... I am absolutely addicted to spinach arancini. I actively hunt them down. Yes, arancini is everywhere; of course, it's Italy. BUT it’s almost always the meat kind. The spinach ones are a different shape and size... and you can usually spot a hint of green peeking through... so I really do have to seek them out. I've become a bit of a pro, though. My two loves I’ve had to limit myself to one a day… even though, in my heart of hearts,

Then came Ortigia... a small island off the coast of Siracusa. The Temple of Apollo “According to the legends of Greek mythology, Ortigia was the island where Leto sought refuge while fleeing Hera's wrath after becoming pregnant by Zeus. Enraged by her husband's affair, Hera forbade any land under the sun from offering Leto shelter to give birth. Eventually, Leto found safety on Ortigia, where she gave birth to the twins Apollo (God of the Sun, music, and prophecy) and Artem

Who takes a carry-on to cobblestone-street-filled Italy? Trying to keep a smile on my face whilst dragging this contraption around. No one. No one in the entire world. Oh... hold on. .. Me. I do. Silly, ridiculous, " not-thinking " me. Of all the places I could've chosen NOT to bring a backpack, I chose Europe … and instead, opted for this roly-poly-ollie, carry-on. Big mistake. BIG . Huge. The only time I will ever succumb to rolling luggage again is if I have some kind of w

Catania. I'm unsure how to say it. Seriously. Do I put the emphasis on the “t”?? Or on the “nia”? I’ve been desperately trying to listen to how people pronounce it, but it seems to vary from person to person. Hmmm... Anyway… the flight from Geneva was relatively drama-free. No significant incidents... except that my phone was dying... but that ALWAYS happens. No big news story there. The flight was far from full... and because of it, I managed to snag myself a window seat.

I want to start off this blog with a little bit of ’splaining. When I travel, I write. I always have. It’s one of the few true forms of expression I genuinely love to do... whether it’s here, rambling on my blog... or scribbled into one of my many memory books. I have quite a few of them. Writing things down is how I make sense of things... no matter what they are. It’s where my ( occasional & perceived ) humour meets honesty ( often mixed with a bit of exaggeration ) ...and